


Forging New Territory

by Telaryn



Category: Leverage
Genre: Asexual Character, Awkward Flirting, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Demisexuality, Developing Relationship, Dinner, First Dates, M/M, Open Relationships, Relationship Discussions, Relationship Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:44:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn and Eliot both want a relationship with each other, but sometimes 'want' and 'love' might not be enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forging New Territory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kastron (ishilde)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kastron+%28ishilde%29).



> My dearest kastron - all I can really say is that I hope this comes close to how you envisioned this sort of fic unrolling. Thank you for...well, for everything.

Quinn didn’t know if he’d ever felt more stupid or self-conscious in his life. He was at the top of his professional game, arguably one of the greatest – if not _the_ greatest hitter in the world – and the idea of a simple dinner date had him in a state of near collapse.

 _Of course it’s not just a simple dinner date, is it?_ Nothing had been simple since the moment he’d kissed Eliot Spencer. Days after it had happened, Quinn still wasn’t sure why he’d done it. They’d just taken out a room full of weapon-toting bad guys and were both arguably flying on adrenaline. Eliot had spun around to offer him a high five, and Quinn had kissed him.

Eliot hadn’t been upset by the kiss and he certainly hadn’t pulled away, but the rest of the team had been on them almost immediately which left the two of them with no time to talk about it. It also meant that when Eliot invited him to dinner a week later Quinn didn’t have to be a genius to understand what had motivated the gesture.

He was on his third go-round with his favorite gray suit when there was a knock at the door. Heart pounding, palms sweating, he went to answer it. “Thank you for coming.”

Nate Ford, Eliot’s boss and the leader of the Leverage team, stepped across his threshold and into the hotel suite. “You sounded like it was important.”

“It is,” Quinn said. “Or it could be.” He gestured at the sitting area. Once Nate was settled on the couch, Quinn took the armchair. “I’m having dinner with Eliot tonight.”

Nate was quiet for a moment. “And you’re afraid the fact that you kissed him during the job is going to make things weird between you.” He grinned at Quinn’s obviously stunned expression. “Give me a little credit. Not to mention, who did you think Eliot was going to talk to before inviting you over?”

Groaning, Quinn buried his face in his hands. “Oh God – he’s creeped out, isn’t he?”

“Far from it,” Nate said. “He has _very_ strong feelings for you, but you’ve never given him any serious indication they were reciprocated before now.”

The revelation brought Quinn’s attention back up, but Eliot’s feelings were only part of the dilemma he potentially faced tonight. “So is Eliot bi?” he asked – aware even as he raised the question that he was treading in a morally gray area by putting the question to Nate before he asked Eliot himself.

Nate seemed to share his sentiment, but he said nevertheless, “I believe he identifies as bisexual, but it’s not a subject we’ve really ever had cause to explore. You already know that’s a question you need to put to him though.” He paused. “Quinn, what am I doing here? If you’re worried about the rest of us objecting to you and Eliot pursuing a relationship – well, you have to know that’s crazy.”

Quinn shook his head. “That’s not it.” He sighed, the weight of a conversation he’d never expected to have bearing down on him. “Nate, what do you know about asexuality?”

Understanding flooded the mastermind’s expression. “Enough,” he said. “Are you thinking of trying to have a relationship with him?”

“Well, that’s obviously up to Eliot,” Quinn admitted. “But yeah – if he was open to the idea it’s something I’d like very much.”

Nate blew out a quiet breath. “Talk to him. He’s a good man, and as I said he’s had strong feelings for you for a while now. Once he knows exactly where you stand, the two of you will be able to work out what’s best for both of you.”

He felt like the most awkward of teenagers when he asked, “What if he resents me because of what I am?” but Nate’s expression was kind.

“I can’t tell you exactly what to expect, Quinn, but I promise you that whatever happens Eliot resenting you for this is nothing you need to worry about.”  
************************************  
“You need candles,” Parker said, nodding at the table. “Romantic dinners are supposed to have candles.”

“Who said this was a romantic dinner?” Eliot countered, but he avoided looking directly at Parker when he said it. She’d agreed to clear out before Quinn was due to arrive; he didn’t want to do or say anything to give her reason to change her mind.

The thief was relentless though, when she got her teeth in something. “He kissed you, didn’t he? You said he kissed you and you said you liked it.”

Opening a bottle of his best pinot noir, Eliot set it on the table to breathe. “And how do you get from kissing to romance? How do you get from kissing to anything?” He risked glancing at her then, and was rewarded with her patented look that said she thought he was being deliberately stupid.

“You _always_ mix up kissing and romantic things and sexy times,” she sighed. “Kissing is always messy with you.”

The part of his brain that was tracking dinner nudged him then, suggesting that there were only two minutes left on the pork roast. “How messy the kissing gets between me and Quinn is between me and Quinn, Parker. You understand?”

Her expression had gone strange on him, and he felt his heart ache – suspecting what she was about to ask. “If there is a you and Quinn, is there still room for me and Hardison?”

Closing the distance that separated them, Eliot touched her hair – successfully resisting the urge to take her in his arms. “There will always be room for you and Hardison. That’s one of the things I have to talk to Quinn about. We might have to change a few things, but I made a promise to you two, and I’m not going to back out on that.”

Her arms tightened around him, and she buried her face against his shoulder for a moment. “I love you,” she said, her voice muffled. “You know that, right?”

Smiling, Eliot hugged her back. “I know you do.” Aware of the time constraints crowding in on them now, he took her by the shoulders after a moment and stepped her back from him a pace. “And I know you’re worried about you and Hardison, but you guys are stronger than that. Even if I go away for good, you’re going to love him and he’s going to love you. That’s what’s important, right?”

He hated that he could see tears in her eyes, but Parker gamely drew herself up and nodded. “All right,” Eliot said, secretly relieved that he wasn’t going to have to spend time helping her settled on this. “I need to deal with dinner – which means I will talk to you tomorrow.”

“Breakfast?” Parker asked, her expression suddenly hopeful.

Eliot shook his head. “Dinner. You two be here at six and I’ll make your favorites.”

When he was finally alone with his food and his thoughts, Eliot tried to put the wrinkle of Parker and Hardison out of his mind. It was an unusual situation, but if anyone could understand what he was involved in, Eliot hoped it would be somebody like Quinn. _And if not,_ he mused, judging the roast finished and moving on to dress the salad, _are you ready to give up something like you could have with Quinn because you don’t mind being Parker and Hardison’s release valve?_

His heart skipped a beat as he heard someone knock at the door. It was a quiet sound – almost tentative – and Eliot’s answering smile deepened as he realized what it likely meant.

“C’mon in,” he began as he opened the door, then stopped.

Quinn’s eyes widened slightly at his sudden silence, and then the other hitter chuckled. “Not sure if that’s a good look or a bad one, but you should probably close your mouth.”

Startled, Eliot shook off his surprise as best he could. “Sorry,” he managed. “It’s just…wow. You look _really_ good.” Quinn was wearing a dark grey suit that looked like it belonged to the over $5000 club – perfectly tailored across his shoulders. A deep blue tie made his eyes look darker than Eliot knew they were in raw sunlight, and for a moment he was overcome with the urge to push Quinn up against the nearest wall and do things to him that would make his neighbors blush.

“Can I come in?” Quinn asked after a long moment of silence – now clearly amused by Eliot’s reaction.

Feeling like an absolute idiot, Eliot pulled the door open and stepped aside – gesturing Quinn inside. As the other hitter walked past, he leaned in and kissed Eliot on the cheek. “You look good too.”

It was a small gesture, but somehow so intimate that every muscle in Eliot’s body seemed to go on point before he could get hold of himself. “Dinner’s ready,” he said, hoping that his voice had achieved something resembling its normal sound as they moved further into the apartment. “We can eat first, or I can fix you a drink and we can talk.”

He didn’t know whether he was surprised or relieved to see a hint of awkwardness at the edge of Quinn’s expression. “Dinner first,” the other hitter said. “Talking whenever and however you want.”  
**********************************  
His request to help politely rebuffed, Quinn stood aside and watched as Eliot brought the food out. He’d heard rumors about the other hitter learning to cook from a mark he’d been hired to take out – whether the story was true or not, it was very clear in a very short amount of time that Eliot Spencer was a man who knew his way around a kitchen.

It was also fast becoming very clear to Quinn that whatever his feelings for Eliot were, they were very deep and very real, and if Eliot didn’t return them it was going to hurt.

A lot.

He flinched at Eliot’s touch on his arm, realizing that his thoughts and fears had momentarily carried him away from what was unfolding in front of him. “Do not disrespect the food,” he said, taking Quinn by the hand and leading him to his chair.

“Sorry,” Quinn apologized as he settled himself and Eliot poured out wine for both of them. “My head, it’s just kinda full, you know?”

Eliot set the bottle down and went to his own seat. “I get it. You know, you could have just asked me if I was okay with you kissing me instead of torturing yourself for this long.”

The bastard timed his observation to end just as Quinn had taken his first bite of the pork on his plate. “Do not disrespect the food,” Eliot said again as Quinn began to cough.

Unable to process it all, Quinn was finally force to take a sip of his wine and spend several moment with his head bowed – focusing every bit of energy he had on getting the meat properly chewed and swallowed. “Asshole,” he breathed, when he could trust himself to speak and look at Eliot at the same time.

His expression completely unrepentant, Eliot grinned back at him. “Guilty,” he admitted. “Come on Quinn – we’re not a couple of lovesick teenagers. Do you really think I’m upset that you kissed me?”

Hearing it all put that way, Quinn was finally able to set aside a large chunk of his own anxiety on the matter. “You definitely wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble,” he acknowledged. “It’s delicious.” Remembering how Eliot had reacted to Quinn kissing him on the cheek a bit earlier he added, “I was pretty sure you were okay with it when you didn’t immediately drop me on my ass.”

Eliot snorted softly. “Okay with it,” he repeated, shaking his head with a smile. “Quinn, are you one of those people who just doesn’t get how amazing they are?”

 _That_ was more blunt than he’d expected. Quinn tried to roll with it though, reasoning that if Eliot was trying to put him at ease, the least he could do was try to let go of some of his own insecurities. “Letting people get close,” he started, then swallowed. “You know how risky that is. Then you add in the fact that I realized I had no idea what your personal situation even was…” He gestured helplessly. “Where do I even begin?”

He was prepared for more gentle teasing – hell, even some teasing with a bite to it would have been welcome – but instead the other hitter greeted him with a calm steadiness. “So you’re not thinking in terms of something casual?”

Licking his lips nervously, Quinn said, “Eliot – my feelings for you are anything but casual. That’s not the problem.”

“So what is? I know it’s not that you’re straight.”

“Just because I kissed you?” Quinn asked, pushing back a little. “Or because I want to kiss you again?’ _A lot?_ his brain added, because this wasn’t a complicated enough situation.

“That,” Eliot admitted. “Plus the fact that I know of half a dozen hits you’re responsible for where the only way you could have pulled them off is if you’d gone to bed with the mark.”

He was right, but memory of those jobs wasn’t something Quinn wanted hanging over their evening. “Are you saying if you were straight and the job called for you to seduce a man you couldn’t do it?”

“Of course not,” Eliot countered immediately; he stilled though, as something occurred to him. “Are you trying to tell me you’re straight?”

Quinn drew a deep breath and felt his brain tumble over the edge of the cliff he’d been standing on into the abyss. “No – I’m definitely not straight. I’m asexual.”  
*******************************************  
It was only through sheer force of will that Eliot kept from laughing out loud, because his first thought after Quinn’s revelation was _oh of course you’re asexual!_. It was too perfect, God setting a man in front of him who pinged every one of his hormones and sent his thoughts spinning off in all kinds of lascivious directions and then making him somebody who not only _couldn’t_ see Eliot in the same way, but would likely be repulsed if he even broached the subject.

“Can I ask what you’re thinking?”

Eliot looked up, startled, to see a very worried Quinn looking back at him. “Just thinking how badly this could have gone if I’d acted on my first impulse back at the door.” Blowing out a sharp breath, he settled himself into something resembling the kind of composure the situation needed. “Beyond that,” he added, “I guess I’m kind of confused. I didn’t think kissing was a thing for asexuals.” He couldn’t ever remember seeing Parker kiss _anyone_ outside of a con – and even on the grift she could only ever make it believable with Hardison.

The question didn’t look like it was easing Quinn’s nerves at all, but now that the subject was on the table Eliot felt like they needed to get through it. “There’s no hard and fast rule,” he said finally. “Just like having sex with a mark or trying out what it’s like in somebody else’s playground for a night doesn’t change how you’re wired.” He took another bite of his pork, chewed and swallowed before continuing. “Physical contact is how I express my feelings,” he said. “Holding hands, hugs – and yes, kissing.”

Eliot was nodding as he finished. “Okay, that makes sense,” he said. “Parker doesn’t kiss as a rule, but physical contact is a very big deal for her.”

He watched as tension seemed to drain out of Quinn. “So Parker is ace – I always wondered.” He paused, and Eliot could see him fitting the expected puzzle pieces together. “Hardison?”

 _Here we go,_ Eliot thought as he searched his brain for the best words to describe Parker and Hardison’s relationship, since it touched directly and intimately on his own circumstances. “Hardison is demisexual, which would be a problem except that he’s attracted to two people right now.”

Understanding lit Quinn’s expression. “Parker and you.”

Eliot nodded again. “He and I aren’t exclusive by any stretch, but Parker’s okay with him channeling his sexual feelings in my direction.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if it makes any sense explaining it like that, but it works for us.” He paused, once again trying to figure out how to go forward. “What I don’t know is where it leaves you and me?”

Dinner forgotten now, Quinn grew thoughtful. “Eliot, my feelings for you are very strong, like I said. Everything makes sense when we’re together, and when I think about the possibility of spending the rest of my life with you…” He grinned self-consciously, ducking his head for a moment. “Let’s just say I can think of a couple million worse ways to end up.”

Eliot felt a pleasant warmth steal over him – it had been so long since he’d heard somebody talk about him in those terms he’d genuinely given up hope of ever hearing it again. And coming from Quinn, who knew what he was and felt this strongly about him anyway, it was almost enough to make him believe that it _could_ work.

Unfortunately neither of them had reached this point in their lives by overlooking the details, and Eliot was far too cynical to believe that something that worked for Parker and Hardison would translate to his own situation. “Quinn, I…” he began, but his voice betrayed him. Grimacing, he took a sip of his wine and tried again.

“You have no idea how much I want to say yes.” _Kissing is always messy with you._ He was suddenly painfully aware that he was about to do to Quinn exactly what he’d just reassured Parker wouldn’t happen to her and Hardison if he wasn’t in the mix, and Eliot realized that he hated himself a little bit.

Quinn drew a deep breath. “Is it the sex thing, or is it something more than that?”

 _It sounds so black and white when he says it like that!_ Eliot thought, momentarily taken aback. “It’s the ‘sex thing’ – trust me,” he said, once he could trust himself to speak, “but Quinn – we’re not children. Love doesn’t conquer all. So much more than love goes into a relationship, and even though I _really_ want to apologize for it right now, I do have a _very_ healthy sexual appetite.” He grimaced. “And right or wrong, I made promises to Parker and Hardison that any relationship between us would impact. I have to respect that.”  
********************************  
“So you’re saying no?” Quinn hadn’t realized when it occurred to him how apt the “stepping off the cliff” metaphor was going to be. He was in free-fall now – too numb to be scared, and drowning in the fact that there was no coming back from the next several minutes. “You’re not even willing to consider a compromise?”

He could see tears in Eliot’s eyes now, but the other hitter’s expression was fierce as he said, “I am saying that I don’t see any way this spins out where I don’t end up hurting you. And Quinn? _It will kill something inside me to hurt you like that._ ”

Quinn swallowed hard. “What if I said I was okay with you continuing your arrangement with Parker and Hardison?”

“ _Is_ that what you’re saying?” Eliot looked understandably skeptical.

“I’m saying I don’t know,” Quinn admitted. “This is entirely new territory for me too, Eliot. I have never felt this way about anyone else; you talk about hurting me, but how bad is it going to hurt if we walk away without even seeing if we can make it work?” He blew out a quiet breath, clarity settling across him at last as he realized he’d finally tapped into the essence of what he needed to say. “It seems to me that’s the kind of hurt you never get over.”

He was already braced for Eliot’s refusal – the other hitter was looking at him so cautiously Quinn couldn’t imagine it being any other way. _He’s right,_ Quinn told himself. _You’ve never had an open relationship, much less something with the kind of commitment you’re saying you want from him._ He even tried for a moment to see Eliot the way Eliot looked at him, but while he could grasp an intellectual understanding that was actually somewhat flattering it felt like something happening to two other people.

“You’re willing to risk that much just to be with me?” Eliot asked finally.

Discarding the first half-dozen responses that flashed through his mind, Quinn finally settled for nodding. “Okay then,” Eliot said, and it was so simple and straightforward an acceptance that Quinn was convinced he’d hallucinated the other hitter’s answer.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his throat so tight he could barely breathe.

Smiling, Eliot nodded. “If you’re willing to try, seems stupid of me not to at least meet you halfway.” He sobered quickly, before Quinn could give into the impulse to leap across the distance that separated them and pull Eliot into a bone-crushing hug. “My condition is that we take it slow. This is new territory for both of us.” He held up a hand, cutting off whatever Quinn had been about to say. “Also, communication. I’ll be honest with you – you be honest with me.”

“Done,” Quinn said, nodding sharply. Relieved suddenly at a bone-deep level he could only barely process, he settled back in his seat. “Now that we’ve got that settled, what now?”

Eliot was quiet for another long moment, his expression suddenly soft and gentle again. “I do have dessert,” he said, “but right now the idea of the two of us on the couch watching whatever brain-dead flick is easiest to find on Netflix sounds like heaven.”

He didn’t want to talk anymore, and Quinn could understand where he was coming from. There was a danger in talking something like this to death, especially now that they’d agreed to take it slow. “Movie sounds perfect,” he said, pushing himself free of the table. “You think Netflix has Tombstone on streaming?”

“Streaming hell,” Eliot said, getting to his feet. “I’ve got it on blu-ray.”


End file.
